


Peace

by Darksilvercat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, a long long time ago I wrote this, snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilvercat/pseuds/Darksilvercat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean share a quiet moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal on April 27th 2009.

Dean Winchester sees dead people.

He also sees vampires, werewolves, wendigos, demons and on one particularly strange occasion, a giant seven foot teddy bear. No kidding. 

It kind of comes with the territory of being a hunter. The men and women who travel their native country to track and kill ghosts and monsters and things that go bump in the night, they’re used to encountering all kinds of supernatural creatures.

The angels though, are new for everyone.

 

He spies Castiel sitting on a park bench as he crosses from the diner to the Impala, and diverts his course to approach the angel.

“You know, these days people get a little nervous about old men in trench coats sitting around and watching their kids,” he says by way of greeting, and to his surprise, Castiel smiles. Heck, he almost _laughs_.

Dean considers sitting down, then wonders if that would be too familiar a gesture. 

“This vessel is not old Dean,” Castiel replies a moment later, tilting his face up towards the sun. He’s squinting in the bright light, and Dean wonders if it’s intentional or just a reflex. After all, a being like Castiel should have no problem staring at the sun.

“Yeah. Not by your standards I guess,” he concedes, pointedly ignoring the fact that the vessel appears to be only a few years older than Dean himself. “So what are you doing here? What mission do you have for us this time?”

“I’m not looking for you,” Castiel informs him. “You found me.”

Dean tenses up instantly, scanning the area with wary apprehension.

“Why? What’s going on?” he asks, and when his gaze finally returns to the angel, Castiel is smiling.

“There is nothing wrong Dean.” Castiel looks round, as though confirming his words to himself. “I just… I came here for some peace.”

“I didn’t know angels could take time off.”

Castiel tilts his gaze up to meet Dean’s eyes, and Dean has to suppress a shiver at the sadness that haunts the angel’s solemn blue eyes.

“This is the first moment in two months that I haven’t been involved in a battle or some other mission,” he informs Dean quietly.

“All work and no play huh? That explains a lot,” Dean replies, trying to lighten the mood, but his joke is either misunderstood or unappreciated, because Castiel fixes him with a baleful glare.

“My kind were not made for ‘play’ Dean. We are soldiers, we follow orders and we fight, there is no-”

“I know, I know, I get it.” Dean throws his hands up in surrender. “I was kidding Cas.” He hesitates, then sits down beside the angel. “I’m just glad you people are on our side.”

Castiel looks momentarily taken aback, and Dean inwardly congratulates himself on having finally stumped the angel. Castiel leans forward, lacing his fingers together, staring at his own hands and resting his elbows on his knees in a surprisingly human gesture.

Dean searches for something else to say, but Castiel saves him the trouble when he raises his eyes to Dean’s face, with an unusually lost look on his face.

“Why do you do that?” he asks softly.

“Do what?”

“Make jokes.” Castiel sighs. “You know how serious this war is, better than anyone you know what’s at stake, and yet you show no respect nor concern.”

The angel’s gaze intensifies, as though he is trying to read the answers from Dean’s mind, and Dean shifts uncomfortably.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” he begins slowly. “It’s just… this is…it’s too big.” Castiel’s brow furrows further. “Demons I can handle, I’ve dealt with them all my life. But Angels? Lucifer? God? The freakin’ apocalypse? That’s too much. I can’t look at it the way you do, it’s……” he swallows hard, looks away. “It’s terrifying.” 

He pauses to collect his thoughts, wondering how best to explain human coping mechanisms to an angel of the Lord. The angel in question appears utterly fixated on him as he continues; “I make jokes because it’s the only way I know to handle it.” He looks back at Castiel, willing him to understand. 

“You mock something to make it feel less intimidating?”

“Exactly.” Dean nods enthusiastically. “There’s a little insight into the human mind for you.”

Castiel leans back, his shoulder nudging Dean’s as he makes a not-so-subtle attempt to mirror Dean’s position.

“Jokes make things easier for you,” the angel states, as though he’s come to this conclusion all by himself.

“Rather be laughing than crying,” Dean replies casually, relaxing further on the bench. 

Castiel smiles sadly at him, blue eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy, and Dean gives an identical smile in return.

Neither feels the need to speak further, content to sit side by side in companionable silence. They watch the world go by around them, Dean occasionally sneaking glances at Castiel, wondering how it must feel to see things from an angel’s perspective. Castiel remains relaxed, seemingly content to play the part of guardian angel for a while. When a child falls from the climbing frame Castiel doesn’t even blink, but the child comes away unhurt. _Miraculously unhurt_ , Dean thinks, and for some reason the thought makes him smile.

When the sun is slipping over the horizon and parents are rounding up their kids to take them home, Castiel straightens up, his gaze fixed on something far beyond their current location.

“I’m being called,” he says apologetically, and Dean nods his understanding. The angel stands as if to leave, then glances back at the Winchester.

“Thank you for your company,” he says softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Dean replies, but the angel is gone, vanished in the time it took him to blink.

Dean shifts in his seat, toying with the idea of returning to the diner or the motel, but there is a sense of calm in the air here, so he wraps his jacket a little tighter around his body and stretches out on the bench, happy to sit just a little longer and enjoy the peace.

**Author's Note:**

> LiveJournal user walksavy [created art](http://walkindream.deviantart.com/art/All-Heaven-Break-Loose-120960057) for this fic. :3


End file.
